


Researching a Role

by Duck_Life



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Acting, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, written for the Human After All data fanzine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Geordi and Data are playing on-stage lovers in Dr. Crusher's latest play. Data has some trouble with their big kiss scene.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 13
Kudos: 227





	Researching a Role

“I can’t say if I’ll be back in a day. I can’t say if I’ll be back in a month,” Geordi says, his voice rich with both sorrow and affection. “But know this, my love. Every minute that I’m gone, I will think of you. And I hope you’ll think of me, too. But if you need a reminder…” And then Geordi’s hands move up to cradle his face. Geordi’s lips crash against his own. 

The sensation is unbelievable. Something like feeling a thousand volts of electricity run through his circuits, something like the feeling of particles dissolving one by one as he goes through a transporter. 

“Aaaaand scene!” Dr. Crusher calls, looking up at her two stars from the foot of the stage. “That was really good,” she insists, even though the pad she’s been using to take notes might say otherwise. “Data, quick note. Andrew is  _ surprised _ when Bartholomew kisses him, but then he  _ responds _ . I’m getting the  _ surprise _ from you but not the  _ response _ .” 

“Understood, Doctor,” Data says, filing the detail carefully in his memory. The play is set to open soon, and he’s committed to making sure his performance is excellent. 

After rehearsal, Data follows Geordi down to engineering so they can keep discussing the scene. “Did the kiss feel stilted to you?” he asks, fishing for more feedback. Getting advice from Dr. Crusher is always good, but he seeks more. He wants more information from his scene partner. 

Geordi shrugs. “I don’t know? The stage is your domain, Data, not mine,” his best friend reminds him. “You’d probably know better than me. I thought it was fine.”

“But not passionate. Not magical,” Data presses. 

This makes Geordi laugh. “I mean, it beats the holodeck,” he says, bracing his hands on his workstation. “You want my honest advice? You could loosen up. But I could, too. I mean, it’s…” He hesitates, looking down at the energy readouts on the console. “It’s you and me, you know? I know when we’re in character we’re Andrew and Bartholomew, but it’s tough to get used to, playing lovers on stage.”

Data considers this. He has a subtle suspicion that Geordi is distinctly not saying something. He could be wrong, though. Those kind of things tend to pass beneath his radar— things left unsaid, implications. “If it makes you uncomfortable, we do not have to proceed.”

Geordi smiles. “No, no, not uncomfortable. Not bad-weird, Data,” he assures him. “Just different. Something to get used to. But that’s what rehearsal’s for, right? Getting into character.”

“Getting into character,” Data repeats. 

* * *

When it isn’t his shift, Data typically spends his free time conducting experiments, reading, writing or playing with Spot. It’s important that Spot gets a lot of variety in her activities, which is why Data fills his quarters with toys that squeak, rattle and crinkle, with scratching posts of all different heights and textures. He knows that if Spot gets bored she might feel unfulfilled.

In some ways, he’s the same way. It’s why he spends so much time trying new things— acting, dancing, even stand-up comedy. He’s on a spaceship hurtling through the stars surrounded by unique and interesting people. If that ever gets boring, he’ll just feel ungrateful. 

Acting is always challenging, but it’s rarely so frustrating. He’d read the script for his scene with Geordi over and over again. He knows his lines. He knows Geordi’s lines. He understands— or at least, believes he understands— the motivations and feelings of his character. 

It’s the kiss. 

The kiss eludes him. 

* * *

After much deliberating, Data decides to get more feedback from his director. Dr. Crusher is one of his most positive influences and someone he holds in high esteem. He trusts her opinions in both medical matters and in the art of theater. 

“May I discuss play rehearsal with you, Doctor?” Data asks, catching Dr. Crusher on her way into the gym. 

“Sure, but I’m trying to squeeze a workout in before my next shift,” she tells him. “So I hope you don’t mind if I multitask.” 

Dr. Crusher grabs two dumbells and begins a set of lunges across the gymnasium floor. After a moment’s deliberation, Data grabs two weights of his own and joins her. “I am concerned that the kiss scene lacks flow and authenticity,” he admits. 

“Is this about the note I gave you? Because overall I thought your performance was fine, Data,” Dr. Crusher assures him. 

“But I do not wish to settle for a ‘fine’ performance,” Data rebuts, mirroring her as she steps forward in a lunge. “Acting is the craft I use to make humanity feel more tangible. It is the window through which I can more accurately view the emotional aspects of human life that evade me. In failing that, I am failing my greater goal of learning about humanity. Dr. Crusher, I want my performance to be  _ perfect _ .” 

“No such thing as a perfect performance,” she tells him. “Every actor approaches roles with their own influences and experiences. You aren’t trying to reach some exact, definable goal, Data. It’s about bringing the text to life in your own unique way.” 

“Tell me how.”

Dr. Crusher smiles ruefully, watching him in the long mirror along the wall. “That’s something you have to figure out yourself, Data,” she says. 

* * *

It’s perhaps the first time that Dr. Crusher’s well-meaning advice has proven completely and utterly useless. Figure it out himself? If he could do that, he wouldn’t have gone to her for help. Maybe it’s because he asked about his performance. But his performance isn’t exactly the problem. 

The problem is the kiss. 

Well, if he needed help with a biosynthesizer, he’d go to someone who was an expert on biosynthesizers. If he needs help with kissing, he should go to an expert on kissing. 

* * *

“Commander Riker, can I ask you a question?” 

“You just did,” Riker says, and grins. Data doesn’t respond. “Sure, Data. What’s up?” Ten-Forward isn’t too crowded during this period of rotation. Across the room, Deanna Troi and Keiko O’Brien are engaged in an incredibly competitive game of tri-level Scrabble. 

“How does one kiss passionately?” 

Riker spews a mouthful of brandy across the table. “Data—? What’s… why are you… You want me to give you… kissing lessons?” A knowing smile crosses his face. “Who’s the girl?” 

“Dr. Crusher.”

“Good Lord.”

“She is the director. It is for a play,” Data explains. “My character has a climactic kiss in Dr. Crusher’s latest play. With Geordi. Only… I cannot replicate the adequate emotional response my character should have. It has been very frustrating.”

“Ah,” Riker says, taking another sip of his drink. “Okay, I think I get it. You need to kiss somebody for this play, but you don’t know how to make it look real?” 

“Yes, exactly,” Data says. “When it comes to dancing and blocking, everything is simple, formulaic. One-two-three, step. Tap dancing, jazz dancing, it follows  _ rules _ . Kissing, I have found, is more confusing.”

“You’ve kissed people before,” Riker points out.

“I have never planned a kiss this far in advance,” Data says. “It is different. Also, I am not kissing someone as  _ me _ , as Data. I am kissing someone as my character, Andrew. Andrew is not an android, so he would not kiss like one. Drawing on my own experience will not prove helpful.” 

“Riiiight, got it,” Riker says, setting his drink down. “How about a demonstration? Hey, Deanna! Could you come over here for a moment?” 

Deanna Troi has, apparently, been following the conversation and looks thoroughly amused. “I can,” she says, excusing herself from Keiko. 

“Wow, look,” Keiko says, laying her tiles on the second level. “DESPERATE. And triple word score, too!”

Riker rolls his eyes at her and turns his attention to the ship’s counselor. “Deanna. Data here needs to perform a— what was it?— a ‘passionate kiss’ in his latest play. And he needs a good example.”

“Ahh,” Deanna says. “And this concerns me how?”

“Aw, c’mon, Deanna,” Riker says. “Don’t you want to support local community theater?” 

“Well,” she says playfully, sitting beside Riker, “I suppose, in the interest of the performing arts.” Data watches with some fascination as Deanna kisses Riker. He notes the way she’s still smiling even as her lips meet his, and the way he catches her upper lip between his lips like interlocking components on a quantum transmogrifer. 

A few other members of the crew in Ten-Forward titter watching Riker and Deanna kiss, but it’s over soon. Deanna pulls away looking fondly exasperated. “Can I go back to my game now?”

“Of course,” Riker says, and then he turns to Data. “See?” 

“So I just copy what you and Counselor Troi did,” Data says. 

Riker sighs. “No. If you copy exactly what we did, it won’t look  _ natural _ . That’s the thing about kissing, it’s all in how you feel.” 

“Oh, of course, how I feel,” Data says. “Thank you, that is very helpful advice.” He waits a beat. “I have been practicing my sarcasm. How was that?”

“It was great, Data,” Riker sighs flatly. “Look, I don’t know what else to tell you. You have to figure out what’s natural for you— or for, whatshisname, your character, Andrew. I think you might just have to practice, you know? Get into the swing of it.”

“Into the swing of it,” Data repeats. “I will take this into consideration. Thank you, Commander— sincerely,” he clarifies. 

Riker smiles again, though Data suspects he is just happy to have had an excuse to kiss Counselor Troi. 

* * *

Practice, then, makes perfect. Data books the holodeck in an attempt to work through the scene without bothering Geordi. He inputs the script and calls up a facsimile of his best friend dressed in the costume from the play. 

"But if you need a reminder," Fake-Geordi says, and kisses him. 

Data tries to display the appropriate emotions. Surprise is first— his eyebrows lift, his eyes widen, his hands remain at his sides. But then comes the response. 

Data shuts his eyes. He moves his hands up to twine around the waist of the hard-light hologram, and he kisses back. He tries a few different positions of his lips, attempting to think about the kiss in terms of steps and procedures. First, close his eyes. Second, open his mouth. Third, move his lips. 

No matter what, he can’t make it seem natural. 

Later, Data reviews the footage from his private holodeck rehearsal and finds himself disappointed. His performance is stiff, uncomfortable. Even though he’s trying, he can’t seem to capture the way Commander Riker and Counselor Troi looked in Ten Forward. The passion his character should be showing is nowhere to be found. 

* * *

The door beeps, and Geordi invites him into his quarters. Data stands in the threshold and lets the door slide shut behind him. “We are going to kiss until it feels natural,” he informs Geordi, who coughs. 

“Who says romance is dead?”

“I believe the quote originated with novelist Charles Kingsley—”

“Data, no…” Geordi sets his tablet on his desk and turns to face Data. "Alright. This about the play, Data?"

"My performance is lacking authenticity," Data informs him. 

“You’ll get there,” Geordi promises. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Data. You’re a great actor.”

“I need to be a great kisser,” Data says. 

“Oh. Well.” Geordi coughs and scratches the back of his neck. Data has catalogued these tics to mean a person is nervous. What does Geordi have to be nervous about? He’s already a good kisser, from what Data can tell. “So… you want to run the scene?”

“I know the lines well,” Data informs him. “I just want to practice the kiss.”

“Great,” Geordi says, but he doesn’t sound great. “Let’s, um. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it, let’s, uh, get going, then, I guess.” 

He steps closer and puts his hands on Data’s face. Geordi closes the gap between them and kisses him, and Data works on performing all the appropriate motions. He puts his hands on Geordi’s waist. He kisses back. 

Geordi pulls away. “That was good,” he encourages.

“Again,” Data says, and pulls Geordi toward him. They kiss twice, three times, four times. Each time, Data tries to figure out the thing, the  _ spark _ , that makes other kisses look natural and normal. He focuses on his character, Andrew, and what he likes about Geordi’s character, Bartholomew. 

Bartholomew owns a bookshop and dreams of traveling the world. Geordi is an engineer with an endless fascination for everything mechanical. Bartholomew always opens doors and pulls out chairs for Andrew. Geordi is always patient and exhaustive in his explanations when Data needs help. Bartholomew loves fearlessly and with his whole heart. Geordi… Geordi never gives up on anyone or anything. 

Around kiss number eight, Data realizes something. 

_ Oh _ . 

Data was wrong. It isn't that he can't replicate and perform feelings of affection and desire and passion for the character portrayed by Geordi. His neural arrays have been protecting him from the truth. 

The truth that… that maybe Data and the character he portrays have something in common. It’s not just Andrew wanting to kiss Bartholomew. It’s Data wanting to kiss Geordi. 

Identifying things he wants has always been difficult for Data, but right now he feels certain. He wants to kiss Geordi a ninth time— and a tenth time, and a forty-seventh time. And he wants to do it as  _ himself _ , not as Andrew.

“Geordi?”

“Mm?” Geordi’s heart rate is accelerated. He’s breathing heavier than usual. Data catalogues this, tries to make sense of this. More nervousness? Or perhaps this is passion, the passion he has been struggling to replicate. 

Asking Geordi for something— company, a favor, an explanation— has never seemed so daunting. It’s this one thing, this one thing he’s only just realized he wants. 

“May I kiss you… not for the play?” Data suddenly wonders if he is asking too much, if he is requesting something he has no right to. “As myself? You, as yourself?” 

Slowly, Geordi grins. “Yes,” he says, “you may.” 

Data kisses him and for the first time, it feels natural. His neural circuits calculate the stimuli of Geordi’s lips and respond accordingly. It isn’t stilted or stunted or awkward. He kisses Geordi because he wants to, not because it’s written in a script. 

And Geordi, Geordi is kissing him back. He throws himself into the kiss with as much exuberance as he exhibits when working on the warp core. His hands are just as precise and gentle as when he finesses a circuit board. 

When they ultimately part, Data is torn between disappointment and curiosity. He wants to keep kissing Geordi, but he also wants to see Geordi’s reaction. He wants to spend hours discussing this new discovery and what it means for him, for the two of them. 

Geordi puts a hand on his mouth for a moment, like he’s replaying what just happened in his head. “Wow,” he says finally. “Yeah, that… that did not feel like the other ones.” 

“Did it feel passionate?”

Geordi laughs. “Yes, Data. Passionate, magical… all that stuff. Perfect. For the record, you  _ are _ a good kisser. When you’re not too in your head.” 

“I received instruction from Commander Riker,” Data informs him, and Geordi laughs. “Would I be permitted to kiss you again?” 

“Absolutely,” Geordi says, moving closer. 

Data knows there is usually a formula to this. Friendship, then flirtation, then courtship and dating and, after that, kissing. For the kissing to come as a surprise, without the formalities of dinner dates and open expressions of affection… Well, he does not know precisely what that means.

But he knows he wants to find out. 


End file.
